Rong, Clerics of many faiths can be found in the service to the Ruby Prince. Perhaps you can share a drink and we can discuss the appeal of each faith. Here, have a flagon of Cayden's finest! Which, some say, is clearly the color of the Dawnflowers light!

Qa'Pelos enters the door of the Lodge room, after it is open by his seneschal, and strides forth purposefully, but with a serene, steady demeanor. He looks about the room with a stoic, stony face, and asseses those who have begun to assemble. He carries the Pharoah's Crook of Order and wears traditional Osirion clothes and the accutrements of one of the Risen Guard. He nods his head slightly, almost making a bowing gesture to those in the room, and sits, his bald, oiled pate glistening in the afternoon light.
He seems satisfied at the small gathering, and in a deep baritone, he says simply ...

Rong, Clerics of many faiths can be found in the service to the Ruby Prince. Perhaps you can share a drink and we can discuss the appeal of each faith. Here, have a flagon of Cayden's finest! Which, some say, is clearly the color of the Dawnflowers light!

Much gratitude for your offer. Alcohol, it is forbidden. I will simply watch, enjoy and remember.

I've heard of some rumors about a grand party called "GenCon" in a place called "Indianapolis" where there is some incredible adventures happening. I was wondering if any of my fellow faction members were also attempting to seek out this "party" and perhaps obtain some lost artifact of Ancient Osirion.

I've heard of some rumors about a grand party called "GenCon" in a place called "Indianapolis" where there is some incredible adventures happening. I was wondering if any of my fellow faction members were also attempting to seek out this "party" and perhaps obtain some lost artifact of Ancient Osirion.

Joko Po, Faithful Servant of Irori. I am considering a respite to my retirement. Rumors of a "Special" mission have rekindled my desire to travel again. This Geneva Conclave you speak of, should prove to be a exciting gathering of Pathfinders.

<<Osario gets up and saunters over to the bar and orders an extra large skillet of spiced potatoes and a pitcher of mead. With food, drink and extra tankards in hand, he returns to his seat by the now dwindling fire.>>

Morning is upon us, and to all of my fellow followers of the desert sun, come eat and share in these delicious spiced potatoes. I couldn't possibly eat them all.

<<Osario gets up and saunters over to the bar and orders an extra large skillet of spiced potatoes and a pitcher of mead. With food, drink and extra tankards in hand, he returns to his seat by the now dwindling fire.>>

Morning is upon us, and to all of my fellow followers of the desert sun, come eat and share in these delicious spiced potatoes. I couldn't possibly eat them all.

Melchior wanders in just as Osario offers the food. "Many thanks friend - they look excellent and I have yet to break my fast. My name is Melchior and I have recently arrived in Absalom from the Ruins of Tumen in search of knowledge and adventure."

Melchior takes one of the proferred plates and fills it with some of the delicious fare.

<<Rong rises, moves to Osario's table, shovels a load of potatoes onto a plate with his gray green hands, nods at the gathering Pathfinders, then flings several coins on the table.>>

Keep 'em coming.

<<...Rong says, and a brief smile crosses his face, revealing grotesque teeth and tusks. A moment later he resumes his seat in the corner and an empty plate clatters to floor. Those who look up see the orcish grin again briefly before Rong wipes his mouth on his sleeve and lights another leaf.>>

A stocky-built Dwarf walks in following the puff of smoke, an obviously well-used Arkenstar-made musket cradled across his chest. He narrows one of his eyes... then reaches down and snags a potato, taking a bite before speaking.

"Aye, well met there lads an' lasses. Jaycen Ruurken's the name, formerly of Arkenstar. Ol' Amenopheus really swayed me, talking 'bout how important it is to keep y'er relics where they belong."

He pats his firearm gently, like a newborn. "That's the sort of thing we do where I come from, so count me in!"

Qa'Pelos watches the orcish man, with stony eyes. Though clearly stoic in demeanor, he seems contemplative. As the stranger discorporates, his eyes widen, but he gives away little else away in regards to his thoughts or feelings on the matter. His face seems placid, but it also seems that this may be because his skin is clearly is somewhat stony and thick, giving him a visage similar to that of a carved statue.

He sits resolutely at his table, while a man - seemingly his servant - fetches his drinks and food for him. Another sits nearby working with what look like ledgers from a business and discusses them with Qa'Pelos. All are adorned in traditional Osirion garb.

In a thickly accented baritone that is level and even, he occasionally simply says, "Indeed" when replying to the seneschal. He appears to notice the weapon being discussed, and nods politely to the man bearing it.

Greetings and Salutations - who was in attendance at the Grand Convocation, and if so, did I speak with you? I played the part of Amenopheus the Sapphire Sage.

You did! I thought your costume was great! And it was neat to see how you played him. I didn't get the opportunity to follow up on the trinket you gave me, and only had a spare moment to return my ballot to you. Any chance of continuing the RP here? I'd love to do a little follow up to the Grand Convocation. BTW, I'm Qa'Pelos the Living Monolith.

The Dwarf nods to those who greet him, and grins at Rong's questions. "Aye, this baby does her part juuust fine. She might not get the range an Elf with a bow can manage, but she'll tear through armor like it was rice paper!"

He loops the carrying strap for the weapon on his shoulder and accepts the offered tankard, lifting it in toast. "Thankee kindly lad. If I had any complaints about the prospect of workin' to help the Ruby Prince, it's that Dwarves and sand dinnae mix much...I'll need many more drinks so I don't end up goin' dry out there!"

The true key to being Osirion is to gather knowledge. These outside gods, while inferior to those of our homeland, can be a source of knowledge.

I myself have embraced some aspects of far Tian Xia, but ave adapted them to best suit our sandy homeland. I have found thier skill in swordplay to be as formidable as our greatest khopeshman, and so I use their steel. I have found their horsemen to match our greatest outriders, and so I use their saddles. I have found their cuisine to be both simplistic and delectible, and so I use their food.

This is not to say that I forsake my fatherland for that of afar! Their armor bakes in the sun, and so I bear our shields. Their horses wilt in the sands, and so I ride our camels. Their languages are many and constantly changing, and so I speak the tongue of our ancestors.

Being Osirioni is not about regecting all that which is not. It is about using all knowledge, regardless of origin in time or space.

A slender, rangy elf stands near the window, his shaven head raised to catch the sun's rays. Coarsely woven robes shroud his figure, tattered garments more fit for a beggar than an agent of the Pathfinders. Badly scarred and covered with faded tattoos, the elf's hostile expression carries a hint of madness, the distracted look of one who even now hears the desert's cruel spirits whispering in his mind.

"Bow and snivel and whine?" Aconite the Anchorite whispers hoarsely. "The Dawnflower has shown secrets to Her favored ones... I've seen them, hidden amid the sands." Wheeling suddenly, the elven fanatic's pale eyes glare accusingly at a young Pathfinder who had the temerity to snicker at his overwrought display. "You may smirk, but you have not seen! While the ignorant scorn the power of the gods, they have not read the ancient inscriptions, they have not fought the spirits of the haboob! Even the awesome might of the Ruby Prince is as naught before the power of the gods themselves!"

Reaching unsteadily for a cup of sekanjabin, the battered anchorite staggers from the chamber, looking around fearfully lest the wasteland's spirits return to torment him further.

<<Though he had been sitting in the corner, minding his own business, this latest slight roused the exceptionally short and tanned elf, dressed in the garb of the desert elves of Osirion's deep desert, to walk into the center of the room and look coldly at Sanakht, then spoke in the concise accent of a native of Sothis>>

"Easily broken, are we? Have you ever walked through a dust storm in the deep desert? I have, as has every elf in my tribe. We are not easily broken. I can assure you, whatever may have unbalanced my... distant kinsman there, it was no "easy" feat. Speak not of knowledge without understanding, lest you reveal your own inadequacies."

<<Khaldun-ra then bows slightly to the rest of the room, somehow conveying the fact that Sanakht alone is not included in the following greeting>>

"Salutations and greetings to you, fellow Osirioni. I look forward to working with you towards our common cause of healing our great Prince, may he outlive us all. As true sons and daughters of Osirion, I agree with Zan, that using things of other cultures for the betterment of our great nation is nothing less than our duty. All who serve the Ruby Prince and his Sapphire Sage are bound to do their utmost for our lord and his trusted adviser."

And again with the ignorance. You hold the very same position that has brought nought but harm to the very Prince that you "claim" to serve. Go back whence you came and allow those of us with wiser heads and far seeing eyes to deal with the attempted murder of the most beloved Ruby Prince.

<<Khaldun laughs derisively at the man>>
The folly and misguided exuberance of a single servant of Orision is not enough for uncowardly persons to discontinue exploring all possible avenues of knowledge. The Sapphire Sage himself has told those of us who serve Osirion from within the Society that he will often ask our help in seeking out foreign ingredients and reagents to be used in the efforts to cure the Prince. He has also instructed us to investigate the lore of Lissala, the admittedly foul goddess whose arcane cultists have caused this woeful state of affairs. Surely you would not tell the Sage that he is mistaken in this? If you would, please tell me when you plan to follow through with this course of action. I would dearly enjoy the show.
A true seeker of knowledge knows that ALL knowledge is worth studying, if only to find its weaknesses. To assume that our ancient predecessors, as almighty as they were, discovered every arcane secret of this wide multiverse is to conjecture on a severe lack of data. Open-mindedness is the first requirement for true knowledge, sir. Any man or woman of the desert could tell you this. The close-minded and inflexible die quickly out on the sands.

Was it not the Sapphire "Sage" that set these events into motion? I have my reasons for doubting the sincerity and goals of this "advisor". Mark my words, the "Sage" plays his game thinking us all fools, and that will lead to our downfall. You may play that role he has assigned you but I refuse. I will find a cure in my own way.

A flame-haired Aasimar slowly walks into the room. She is robed and cloaked such that the only part of her that's visible is her red-tinged face and hair that looks as if a living fire were crowning her head. She walks to the middle of the room and throws her cloak off and to the floor. The first thing you notice about her is that her arms appear to have been burned into near uselessness. Second is that she is heavily armored but does not appear to have a single weapon on her person. Nevertheless, you get the feeling she would be an extremely tough nut to crack in a fight.

She carefully looks around the room, and then speaks with a highly cultured voice: "I am Evangelyne. Where I am from is no concern of yours. I have joined this august group in the hopes of finding out which so-called deity saddled me with these unwelcome powers. If in the meantime I am able to add to the cumulative knowledge of Osorion, so be it."

She then goes off to a table by herself, on the way signaling a waiter to bring her a bottle of their strongest liquor and a single glass.

young man enters. His flawless skin, white hair, white eyes, and white halo, leave little doubt to his angelic heritage. Equally obvious is his alliance, with the black clothes and red cloak he favors, as well as the prominently worn unholy symbol of the Prince of Darkness.

Greetings. I am Amedeo Lanatus, an Acolyte in the service of Asmodeus. I come here as a newly admitted fellow Pathfinder. As I am likely to be sent by the Ten on missions with some of you, I though it wise to introduce myself to each disparate group within the Society.

Greetings Empedocles, I believe that our search for a cure for the Ruby Prince has indeed bourne fruit. Only time will tell however.

The tall Osirion priest looks Amedeo up and down. As he does so his fingers brush the the silver symbol of a spiral tailed comet.
Hello young man. As you begin your service remember that some may balk at the power you have chosen to serve. However all Pathfinders have sworn to explore, report and cooperate. If you do that, then your companions will come around and do likewise.

Hello young man. As you begin your service remember that some may balk at the power you have chosen to serve. However all Pathfinders have sworn to explore, report and cooperate. If you do that, then your companions will come around and do likewise.

Noting the symbol that Ru-Sateph wears.

You know better then I, it is foolish to refuse the fate that has been chose for you.

Thank you, Risen Ru-Sateph. My old master Arcanfrew would be pleased that there may be reason to believe his teachings and our collective efforts have not been in vain. Of course, how could they fail with Rong the Fit always here! ;-)

It's not my place to welcome you, Evangelyne, as I am a newcomer myself. However, welcome! Thank you for lending your assistance while you quest to solve the puzzle of your predicament. I am curious though, acursed with powers? Not gifted? See, I am a mere alchemist. I am not blessed with a direct divine conduit nor do my studies reveal powerful arcane magics. I must content myself with what I can concoct in my lab or, while traveling, in a portable kit. Any accomplishment comes only through arduous experimentation. Many times have I wished for simpler access to power. Though perhaps I don't fully grasp what goes on behind arcane and divine ability. It seems though that Amedeo and/or Ru-Sateph here can help answer some of your theological questions.

Good on you, Amadeo, for your diplomatic efforts. Would that I were one so-inclined, I would return with you and introduce myself at the Chelish Pathfinder house. All the best to you and should we ever find ourselves grouped by a common venture captain, I shall assist with my elixirs, infusions, bombs and mutagens as best as I may.

The ragged ulfen man stood and looked down at Amedeo's clothes. He glared and spat down on the floor, he held his greataxe down at his side as a show of good faith.

"I do not like your nation... but you..." He pointed with the head of his axe in Amedeo's general direction. "... I can't help but give you the credit of being the lesser of great evils."

Gjorn switch his greataxe to his left hand, and held his fist to his chest before bowing his head.

"I wish you the best, and if we find ourselves in the same venture you can count on my steel to cover your back!" The ulfen leaned down from his staggering height and looked right into Amedeo's eyes with a smirk. "No offense though... but there is no way in hell i'm returning this diplomatic gesture to the chelish house."

"I wish you the best, and if we find ourselves in the same venture you can count on my steel to cover your back!" The ulfen leaned down from his staggering height and looked right into Amedeo's eyes with a smirk. "No offense though... but there is no way in hell i'm returning this diplomatic gesture to the chelish house."

You reticence is understandable. No offense is taken.

In any event, I know that the Ulfen people have a strong sense of honor and respect for duty. It is in that spirit that I accept your pledge.

Likewise, you can be assured, that as a priest of the Lord of Law, I will do what I have, as a Pathfinder, pledged to do - Explore, Report, and Cooperate.

If we find ourselves in the same venture, I will bring Asmodeus's power to cover your back as well.

A tall woman, clearly a tiefling, comes in. She is a mix of cultures and colors. Her arms bear an intensely complicated, and moving, tattoo that seems to be moving flame that gives off light as she sits down in a nearby chair. At the center of the flame is an ornate burning sidhedron rune with an ornate green rune in it's center. The rune with rune tattoo looks to be new.
Her faerie dragon familiar watches the room from her collar as her unseen servant fetches her a pitcher of chilled tea that she adds to with a flask that her tail pulls from a hip pouch.

"Amedeo, some among us that have had.. less than cordial acquaintances with your divine patron's.. emissaries." She said as she turned her fiery yellow eyes at him. She seemed a bit wan and drained as she drank her drink. "We who aid the Ruby Prince and stand beside the Sapphire sage do it for a variety of reasons. I do it out of a sense of obigation to his mentor, the elemental spirit Janhelia, who taught me the secrets of elemental manipulation." She took another sip. "I appreciate Gjorn's attitude. Several of my allies have been had to do.. favors for your patron, the paracountess." She looked at Amedeo firmly. "We are all pathfinders first.. but everyone has some reason for doing what we do. We who serve the Ruby Prince do it to help recover and preserve Osirion's historic legacy. But we also stand for things outside our persona goals, fealty and such. Recently it was putting down the Runelord Krune." Here she holds up her tattoo for him to see. "This season has been one of panic and fear as we aid those collecting the fifth Mendevian crusade. I did my part in the forests of Kyonin in an effort to collect demon hunters. Pay attention that your patron's affections don't lead her, and you, down roads better ignored."

A tall woman, clearly a tiefling, comes in. She is a mix of cultures and colors. Her arms bear an intensely complicated, and moving, tattoo that seems to be moving flame that gives off light as she sits down in a nearby chair. At the center of the flame is an ornate burning sidhedron rune with an ornate green rune in it's center. The rune with rune tattoo looks to be new.

Her faerie dragon familiar watches the room from her collar as her unseen servant fetches her a pitcher of chilled tea that she adds to with a flask that her tail pulls from a hip pouch.

"Amedeo, some among us that have had.. less than cordial acquaintances with your divine patron's.. emissaries." She said as she turned her fiery yellow eyes at him. She seemed a bit wan and drained as she drank her drink. "We who aid the Ruby Prince and stand beside the Sapphire sage do it for a variety of reasons. I do it out of a sense of obigation to his mentor, the elemental spirit Janhelia, who taught me the secrets of elemental manipulation." She took another sip. "I appreciate Gjorn's attitude. Several of my allies have been had to do.. favors for your patron, the paracountess." She looked at Amedeo firmly. "We are all pathfinders first.. but everyone has some reason for doing what we do. We who serve the Ruby Prince do it to help recover and preserve Osirion's historic legacy. But we also stand for things outside our persona goals, fealty and such. Recently it was putting down the Runelord Krune." Here she holds up her tattoo for him to see. "This season has been one of panic and fear as we aid those collecting the fifth Mendevian crusade. I did my part in the forests of Kyonin in an effort to collect demon hunters. Pay attention that your patron's affections don't lead her, and you, down roads better ignored."

Amedeo's flawless skin, white hair, white eyes, and white halo, leave little doubt to his angelic heritage. Equally obvious is his alliance, with the black clothes and red cloak he favors, as well as the prominently worn unholy symbol of the Prince of Darkness.

"Then surely you must also admit that the Chelaxians have considerable experience binding and banishing dangerous outsiders," the young aasimar returns Cindrana's firm gaze.

"You should also realize, that recent events," he pauses, "have compelled Paracountess Dralneen to focus task at hand. This is fortunate, as dealing with Demons requires the firmest possible resolve."

Cindrana's familiar gives the Asmodean a look that could be termed fulminating as the teifling Mage uses a Cantrip to re chill her tea.

"Yes, I know of the contempt that your country holds demons in." The tiefling says with a look as she rubs the bone club on her hip, a 'reminder' of her place in her father's land. "And I am well acquainted with the skill that your people have in the summoning arts, given that I started my schooling a century ago in Korvosa. And I have made the acquaintance of both Tancred Desmire, one of the allies of our demon foes, and his brother who I killed in the Hao Jin tapestry. Both of whom are your countrymen. I simply pointed out we are ...wary of Asmodeans bearing sweet words." She lit a cigar with a flick of her hand. "No offense taken or given. Cayden says 'every drink can be filling, but not everyone likes every brew.' I simply offered comment that some of are wary, not that you aren't welcome. I tend to be terse after dire battles, I typically have run out of drink after surviving them. I was rather cranky last year after a trip to the Stovall stair. Giants crushed my flask after a near miss with a boulder. ". She spreads her hands in a welcoming gesture as her unseen servant brings out a platter of cheese, chilled brews and dates as she sat back and fed her dragon companion a bit of taffy that he chewed with vigor.

"We all do what we can to aid another in the field, here though we relax and tell tall tales, not bandy out sermons on our gods and countries." She smiled a genuine smile as she took a drag on her cigar. "Relax more..preach less, we battle with steel, sword and spell enough already in the field. Here we celebrate our victories, talk of those we have lost in toasts and tales of their deeds and curse the name of our most fowl foe, Drendle Drengs who summons us from warm beds and comely companions in the wee hours of the night."